


She wants to say "I love you"

by Haruka_1224



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 01:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8267830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haruka_1224/pseuds/Haruka_1224
Summary: She wants to say "I love you"But keeps it to "goodnight"Because love would mean some fallingAnd she's afraid of heights.What does it truly mean to love? Through the course of knowing, and falling for, Amélie Lacroix, Lena slowly finds out. It turns out that love involves a lot more pain, uncertainty and darkness than she first thought...





	1. Chapter 1

The morning snowfall had just ended, coating the ground in soft, glittering white, while the frozen lake gleamed and shimmered like a polished mirror. All around, children in fluffy, oversized coats and crude skates had gathered, laughing and playing, shoving each other across the ice as they enjoyed a rare moment of peace in the bitter depths of the Russian winter, when it was too cold for the Omnics to advance.

Many of them were unsupervised; the war had made adults a rarity, and orphans littered the crumbling streets as children’s homes struggled with their sheer numbers. Even teenagers were an uncommon sight, many having gone into the military in their desperation to have roofs over their heads, clothes on their backs and food in their stomachs.

Regardless, it was still a precious and beautiful moment of bliss, one that Lena would have appreciated much more if she wasn’t sprawling arse-first across said lake every three seconds.

“ _Ma cherie_ , are you alright?” Struggling to hold back laughter, Amélie leaned over to offer her a helping hand.

With a pout, she ignored the outstretched hand, rising shakily to her feet and promptly falling yet again. “This was an awful idea, love.”

A fond smile spread across Amélie’s face as she held out both hands to Lena, “If you were not so stubborn, you might enjoy yourself more.”

Lena flushed a vivid crimson as she looked away, wondering if the whole world could hear the thundering of her heart against her ribcage. She had been actively trying to contain her huge crush on the other agent for _months_ , but Amélie was rendering all her efforts useless with her warm smile and beautiful, sincere golden eyes.

How could anyone not love a woman like Amélie?

Shaking the thought from her mind, Lena scrambled to her feet with all the grace of a drunken panda, her legs slipping awkwardly beneath her as she huffed, “I don’t need any help, love.”

Behind her, Amélie laughed, not unkindly, the sound fluttering like butterflies in the pit of her stomach. She was way too gay for this, and Amélie was way too beautiful, and once again her arse was kissing the ice at Mach One.

“Bollocks!”

Pressing a hand to her mouth to contain a chuckle, Amélie shook her head, “It is quite evident that you do.”

Briefly, Lena considered her options – accept her crush’s hand and possibly die of a heart attack, or bruise her bum so badly she probably wouldn’t be able to sit for a week. Neither seemed particularly appealing, but before she could make a choice, Amélie grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her to her feet.

“Steady,” she murmured, resting a hand against Lena’s waist as the girl buckled, “I’ve got you, _cherie_.”

Lena didn’t hear a word she had said, her brain shrieking endlessly as she felt the swell of Amélie’s breasts pressed against her. _Goddess above_ , she was too gay for this. Her heart was combusting, and she was pretty sure her cheeks could melt clean through the ice.

“-ena, Lena, can you hear me?”

“What?” startled, she looked up at the amused expression on the other woman’s face, a little too smug and knowing for her taste. Scrambling for an excuse, she said, “My… my arse hurts.”

Okay, that was _not_ something she should’ve said. Definitely not. Though judging from the expression on Amélie’s face, she found it absolutely hilarious. Was that a good thing? Probably, at least she didn’t look absolutely horrified…

“Just hold on to me, and I promise your _arse_ will be fine,” she said the word exactly as Lena had, nailing the British accent perfectly, her voice doing all sorts of illegal things to Lena’s short-circuiting mind.

Blushing, Lena did as she was told, biting her tongue to keep from saying anything inappropriate. It was a rare, peaceful day and she did not want to ruin it with feelings, especially when she was skating lazily across a frozen lake hand-in-hand with the most gorgeous woman she had ever seen.

This would be enough, it had to be. Lena didn’t have any hope of getting any more.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m dying,” Lena groaned dramatically as she flopped over on the couch, dressed in nothing but a tank top and booty shorts. Her signature spiky hair lay in damp streams against her forehead, matted by her perspiration. “When I die, bury me with my family…”

“I don’t think either of us will survive this mission, _cherie_ ,” Amélie’s voice was muffled by the bathroom door, “Even the cold water here is warm.”

For some reason, they had been sent to Malaysia as part of a small lookout team, and not only was nothing happening, the weather seemed to be trying its best to kill them. It was 30 degrees every damn day, and the humidity was nothing a Londoner like Lena had ever experienced before – it was like walking straight into the bowels of hell.

Even with the air-conditioner in their room cranked up to the max, Amélie and Lena were wilting, and the lack of things to do wasn’t doing them any favors.

“I’m going to kill Morrison when we get back,” Lena groaned, raising her head as she heard the toilet door creak open. “Are you- _Oh._ ”

Lena’s mind shut down completely as she took in the sight of Amélie, in nothing but a lacy gray bra and matching panties, one hand raking slender fingers through her damp hair. It was like a scene right out of one of her wet dreams (not of Amélie, of course, it was just a woman who happened to look like Amélie, that’s all).

“Make sure you leave enough of him for me to kick,” Amélie said absently, leaning over the small kitchen counter and giving her a way-too-nice view of her perfect arse.

Struggling to swallow past the sudden lump in her throat, Lena tore her gaze away, flicking on the television and randomly scrolling through the free-to-air channels – all in Malay, unfortunately – hoping to find a distraction of any sort before a brain fart made her say something she’d regret.

Lena nearly had a heart attack when Amélie flopped down next to her, wordlessly handing her a glass of iced water, and she took long gulps in a desperate attempt to cool her head. On the television, some skinny children were digging a trench in which to bury their parents, their faces the cold, hard mask of those who had seen too much for their years. It was sad, yes, and hit awfully close to home, but Lena couldn’t think of anything but her almost-naked crush, sitting just centimeters away.

“Are you alright, _cherie_? You’re strangely quiet tonight,” Amélie remarked, gently resting one hand on Lena’s bare thigh.

She nearly jumped out of her skin, dropping the glass with a surprised yelp. Fortunately, it was made of some new-fangled fiberglass, stronger than human bones, so all she got was a lapful of cold water.

“I-I’m alright!” she squeaked, leaping off the couch, “I’ll just g-go… get a towel…”

Amélie merely smiled and reached out to ruffle Lena’s damp hair, her tone fond as she said, “My clumsy puppy.”

Lena bit back the words that fought to escape from her throat – Amélie didn’t mean it that way, she couldn’t possibly, she was most probably heterosexual and even if she wasn’t, she was happily married.

This would be all she would ever get, a close friendship, and if she blurted those three stupid words, she would ruin it all forever.

 

* * *

 

 

“Two of the usual, Matt!” Lena shouted energetically as she pushed her way into her favorite chip shop, ignoring the long, scruffy line of customers that shot daggers at her as she walked by.

“Lena, that you?” a balding man in a stained apron, Matt, Amélie assumed, came out of the kitchen, flinging his arms around Lena and lifting the tiny girl clear off the ground. “It’s been donkey’s years! Thought you were running around with those Overwatch blokes?”

“Still am,” she grinned, gesturing to the confused-looking Amélie, “We’re a little peckish and were in the area, so I thought to check up on you.”

He laughed, a deep, full-belly laugh that shook his entire body – Amélie had never met anyone who did that. Leaning in a little too close, Matt examined her, though he probably could smell her foreign-ness from a mile away. She looked extremely out-of-place in a seedy, back-alley chip shop, in her fancy fur jacket and dark purple leggings.

“Ain’t from round here, is she?” Matt asked, turning to Lena – maybe it was a thing around these parts to ignore strangers and treat them as if they weren’t really there. “Got yourself a downright great catch, though, duck.”

“We’re just friends,” Lena said, turning an impressive shade of red that would make tomatoes jealous, “And haven’t you a full house on your hands, mate? Don’t keep them waiting.”

As if suddenly noticing the long line of miffed customers, Matt nodded and headed back into the kitchen, not before seating Lena and Amélie and a corner booth with more privacy than Amélie ever expected a place like this to have.

“Best seat in the house, love,” Lena explained as she slid into the booth, a huge grin on her face. “Ah, it’s been ages since I last ate here. I can’t wait.”

“The patrons outside seem… unhappy,” Amélie observed, “Do the British practice favoritism a lot?”

“Love, it’s a chip joint. We do what we want.”

Evidently, it wasn’t something Amélie had much experience with, not that anyone would have expected her to. She was from a well-off family, well educated, well raised and well bred, definitely a cut above the common corner shop folk.

Within a few minutes, Matt came over with two baskets of fried fish and chips in wax paper. According to Lena, serving customers wasn’t something he normally did, he didn’t run some fancy, high-collar restaurant. You collected your food at the counter if you were any ordinary bloke and ate it wherever you wanted, but a regular got some special treatment.

“If you’ve ever got time to kill, duck, drop by again,” he said with a grin, “The boys are aching to hear about your adventures.”

With that, the big man disappeared back into the kitchen; leaving Amélie to stare slightly suspiciously at the greasy mess she had been served.

“It won’t kill you, love,” Lena laughed at Amélie’s cautious expression, watching as she gingerly prodded a chip with her fork. “No need for table manners here, you kinda just shovel it down any old how.”

The other patrons seemed to be doing just that, forgoing utensils for their bare hands, making Amélie shudder. And the volume at which they talked, as if they wanted the whole damn world to eavesdrop on them…! She had never seen people like this before, dirty and ragged and probably all on-the-run from the authorities for one reason or another.

Amélie had pretty much gone against most of her upbringing to traipse through back alleys in King’s Row to eat at a chip shop, something no one in Overwatch would even dream of doing for their lives, let alone for Lena. London wasn’t exactly famous for its safety or cleanliness, not after the Omnic Riots ruined most of the city and turned it into some Dickens dystopia. It made her chest all warm and fuzzy, as if her heart had turned into a kitten, to know that Amélie was willing to go so far out of her comfort zone just to make her happy.

Shoving a mouthful of chips down her throat, Lena stopped _those_ words from escaping her, grinning with bulging cheeks at the slightly amused Amélie and watching the way the dim lighting danced in her golden eyes. She was smitten, helplessly so, but she’d rather die before admitting it.

 

* * *

 

 

“He’s late,” Amélie growled, the sound of her pacing audible even through the phone. “He should’ve been back six hours ago, _cherie_.”

“Gérard’ll be fine, love, promise,” Lena struggled to bite back a yawn, casting a glance over her shoulder at the clock. 4:31AM. She had been on the phone with her worried best friend for almost 5 hours now, trying to soothe her frazzled nerves as she panicked about her husband.

Part of Lena wished he wouldn’t come back; to be entirely honest, she almost hated him for having the affections of the woman she wanted so desperately. But Gérard made Amélie happy, they had been childhood friends and had probably never had a fight in their entire relationship, and Lena didn’t want to take that away from her.

“The last time he was this late, Doctor Ziegler almost couldn’t save him,” she replied, obviously agitated. At her feet, the couple’s white Persian yawned, not particularly concerned by her master’s lateness.

“But she did,” Lena said, trying to force as much cheer into her voice as she could with less than an hour’s sleep in the past three days, “Gérard’s a tough cookie and the Doc’s a wonder. Have a little faith in them, love.”

The sigh that escaped her was long and deep and suffering, “I know, _cherie_ , but I can’t stop worrying.”

Spotting a faded old game board tucked halfway under her table, Lena was struck by a sudden idea. “I’m coming over with a distraction, give me five.”

“But you haven’t slept in days!”

“Not like I’ll get any sleep either way,” she replied with a grin, tucking the board under her arm while lacing her shoes with one hand. “Know what, I’ll be there in two.”

Amélie had barely put down the phone before her doorbell rang, the sound of air and time displacing setting the cat on edge. Mircalla had no fondness for the time-skipping, hyperactive agent, and liked her even less after the young woman spilled hot tea all over her. The dislike was mutual – Lena was much more of a dog person.

“You said two,” was her greeting, a small smile tugging at the edges of her lips as she took in Lena’s outfit – an oversized cartoon t-shirt and boxer shorts with bananas all over them. “You ran here in that?”

Shrugging, Lena padded into the apartment, happily ignoring the hissing cat as she plonked down on the couch, “Not like anyone could see me, love.”

Shaking her head, Amélie settled on the couch next to her, peering curiously at the faded box Lena had set on the table. _Monopoly_ , it said in yellowing letters, and a small speech bubble in the corner heralded it as _the world’s most famous family game, come to holo-board for the first time!_

“How old is this thing?” she asked, wrinkling her nose as Lena brushed dust from the cover and set up the board.

“Probably older than me,” Lena replied, sticking out her tongue in concentration as she tried to figure out how to turn on the old hologram system. “Last tenant left it in the back room, I just unearthed it.”

Slipping off the couch to cuddle next to her, Amélie asked, “How do you even play this thing?”

“It’s easy, love, I’ll teach you as we go along.”

It took barely ten minutes for the game to get too competitive, playful expletives exchanged and random trinkets flung at each other as they squabbled over property and buildings. Luck seemed to be on Lena’s side, and before long she was the tycoon of London, celebrating expensive hotels in all the best properties while Amélie’s piece – a top hat – languished in jail.

As the hours flew by, Lena slowly realized that Amélie had completely forgotten about her husband – she hadn’t said his name in hours and seemed to be having a great time. If only they had met before Gérard, Lena found herself wishing, then this torturous feeling in her chest could be more than just a doomed love.

But they hadn’t, and there was no way she could ever admit her feelings.

 

* * *

 

 

Hollywood was probably one of Lena’s favorite places to be stationed, because little actually happened there and the cinemas were more than happy to let Overwatch agents watch movies for free. It was basically a paid vacation with the latest blockbusters thrown in, and sometimes you could get autographs of famous people.

“Sometimes I wonder why I’m always stuck with you,” Amélie said fondly as they wandered the streets, not exactly hand-in-hand but walking so closely they might as well be. Even Gérard had noticed _something_ between them, how comfortable they were around each other and how actively they sought each other’s company, but he didn’t seem against it.

“Aww, you know you like it, love,” Lena gently butted her friend’s arm, an easy task considering their height difference.

“Well, I had to adapt or die, _cherie_ ,” she replied with a laugh, ruffling Lena’s hair to take the barbs out of her words. “You’re a very strange girl.”

“Flung out of space?”

Amélie raised an eyebrow, obviously recognizing the reference. “Yes, my strange girl, flung out of space.”

The words bubbled forth in Lena’s throat before she could stop them, “Hey, Amélie?”

“Hmm?” those piercing golden eyes snapped her out of her trance – a sudden, jarring warning of what she stood to lose by uttering the three words she had been hiding for so long.

“Wanna catch a movie?”

 

* * *

 

 

The plane shrieked as it fell out of the sky, warning sirens blaring as the remains of three smoking engines slowly crumbled. Most of the fuselage had been shot away, they were losing altitude fast, and the oxygen masks only provided another twelve minutes of oxygen before they would start suffocating.

Lena should have probably landed after they lost the first engine, about an hour and a half ago, along with a huge chunk of the starboard side, but she was the only plane still flying and couldn’t afford to stop while their agents fought and died on the ground. So she kept at it, with three engines running and her faithful co-pilot keeping an eye on the damaged wing, until a half dozen tracer missiles grazed their side and took out half the cockpit, the co-pilot and yet another engine.

Still, Lena flew, though she did try to drop her passengers – Amélie and a squadron of five other top-notch snipers, off to safety so they could make their way to the front on foot. Half of them had resisted, and they were now tied to chairs or crates, half-hanging out the low-flying plane and sniping every Omnic they could see.

“Can you keep us steady, Ace?” one of the snipers, a broad American built like a barn, called out. “I can’t shoot straight if I’m jerking every two seconds!”

“We’ve only got one engine left!” she yelled back, the edge of frustration and fear in her voice unnerving the snipers more than the situation at hand. Lena was always cheerful, that was what reassured them whenever they marched onto the battlefield, but she wasn’t anymore.

“If they send another dozen tracers, I reckon we’ll be blown,” she said, turning the plane sharply onto its side, leaving Amélie and the other sniper, a Chinese guy everyone called Ling, dangling from their belts for a few too many moments. “They really aren’t letting up!”

“C’mon, Tracer, you can’t get beaten by your own callsign!” the American, Charlie, shouted, firing off two more shots into the fray and gasping as the plane righted itself, the belt yanking hard around his stomach.

“You try dodging tracers with one engine and less than half a plane!” she yelled back, “Bollocks, two dozen tracers to the starboard side! Am, Ling, get ready!”

The duo barely had any time to cling onto something before the plane twisted again, gravity pulling insistently at them as they struggled to shoot as they hung almost upside down.

“We’ll hit too hard!” Ling shouted as the ground rapidly approached – they were still losing altitude at an alarming rate, and if they didn’t slow down soon, they would all die.

Lena cursed, her hands trembling, her gloves already soaked through with cold sweat. Sure, she had survived countless bad situations in planes and landed safely despite only having half the engines she normally did, but this was beyond her. She’d never been hit so badly, nor had she tried landing a plane with only the rear port engine functioning.

To her surprise, Amélie slung her gun over her shoulder and began the arduous climb to the cockpit, her voice steady as she said, “You can do this, _cherie_ , I believe in you.”

“I can’t…!” she yelped, her voice cracking as the plane shuddered, part of the tail falling off, causing them to lurch violently like a drunk bird. “There’s no way!”

“You can!” she started when she felt Amélie’s warm arms suddenly encircle her shoulders, the stench of oil, smoke and blood mixing with the delicious, gentle smell that was undeniably _Amélie_.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Lena said, “Everyone, I need you inside and buckled down tight. And I mean _tight_.”

Without question, they obeyed, Amélie strapping herself to the seat behind Lena’s, precariously close to the gaping hole the tracers that took out half the cockpit – and the co-pilot – had left behind.

“I’m putting us into a death roll,” she explained as she forced the plane further down, ignoring the screeches of protest all the monitors were emitting. “We’re either going to end up in the hospital, or in body bags. Everyone good with that?”

She didn’t bother waiting for the team to reply, plunging the plane down at a fatal angle. As it started to tilt, broken wings struggling to find lift, Lena wondered if now was the time to tell Amélie her feelings, so she wouldn’t carry them to the grave.

The plane rolled, their last good engine shrieked, and in the cacophony of mechanical noises, Lena chose yet again to hold her tongue.


	2. But Keeps it To "Goodnight"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments! I'm happy that you liked it, and I do hope you continue enjoying this story in the future!  
> Also, sorry for the long wait ;-;

As much as Amélie disliked its people, the City of Lights was undeniably beautiful, and Lena particularly loved the way they sparkled in her golden eyes like a thousand, miniature stars. Sure, the Parisians were a little unfriendly and even their street rats seemed a little snobby, but that didn’t really affect her view of the city. Every country had their bad eggs, and Lena was pretty good at ignoring them.

Leaning further over the railing at the top of the Eiffel Tower, Lena squinted down at the bright, snow-flecked city below, calling out, “Hey, I can see the Watchpoint from here!”

Amélie shook her head and grabbed the smaller woman by her coat hood, pulling her down as if she were an overly-excited puppy, “That’s dangerous, _cherie_.”

“Don’t worry, love, if I fall, I’ll just recall,” she said lightheartedly, completely oblivious to the stares and whispers of the crowd around them.

It was refreshing, Amélie thought, the way Lena disregarded almost every worry in the world, from trivial things like the gossiping general public to death threats. She was unlike anyone Amélie had ever met before, fearless and happy and unflinchingly positive, the brightest thing that she had ever set eyes on. Paris was bright, yes, brilliantly so, but it was nothing in comparison to the light that poured out of Lena on a daily basis, a light strong enough to rival the sun.

“I don’t think Overwatch would appreciate the press,” Amélie chuckled, “Imagine the headlines. _Overwatch poster girl falls off Eiffel Tower playing tourist_.”

She laughed, leaning back obligingly, “It’s not like I’d get hurt, love.”

Amélie shook her head, muttering about it being beside the point, and Lena laughed as she threw her arms around her neck. Smiling, Amélie leaned into the touch, wrapping one arm around Lena’s waist and causing her heart to skip a couple dozen beats.

_Control your gay, Oxton!_

Around them, people were muttering and snapping photos, not that either of them really cared. There’d been rumors about them, about the nature of their relationship, ever since they started hanging out in public together, but Gérard wasn’t particularly bothered by them. Instead, he was happy that his wife and subordinate were getting along so well, which made Lena feel awfully guilty for the crush she was harboring.

Still, she wasn’t going to act on those stupid feelings, and it was not like she had any chance of stealing his wife anyway. Not that she’d try even if she had, no way, she respected them both too much to do something like that. Right…?

Pulling away to lean against the railing, Lena looked out over the city once more, seeing Amélie’s warm golden eyes in every brilliant, yellow-gold light that shone up at her, her feelings bubbling pointlessly in her chest as she felt the other woman take her hand. She couldn’t say it – if she wouldn’t say it on the verge of death on a crumbling plane, there was no way she’d crack on the cheesiest romantic spot on the planet.

Contrary to popular belief, self-control was one of Lena’s strengths; how else would she have blazed through flight school with perfect scores at the tender age of sixteen? If she could control herself enough to sit in a chair and study for eight hours straight, every single day for a year, she could keep her mouth shut about some silly crush.

“ _Cherie_ , are yo-” before Amélie could finish asking her question, her phone buzzed, her face lighting up as she read the message. “He’s back!”

Lena felt her stomach plummet to the snowy pavement below as she croaked, struggling to keep her voice cheerful, “Already? That’s two days early!”

The worried look on Amélie’s face told her that she hadn’t succeeded, but the woman was kind enough not to pry. “Would you like to join us for dinner?”

The mere thought of facing Gérard right now was too overwhelming, and Lena fought and failed to quell the burning shame in the pit of her belly. “And be a third wheel? I’m good, love, go and have a good time with him.”

Lena felt awful, lying to Amélie like that, but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to take watching them act all sweet and lovey in front of her eyes while pretending her heart wasn’t being torn out of her chest. Sometimes, she hated Gérard with every inch of her being, because he held effortlessly in his arms the woman Lena loved more than anyone and anything.

She felt tears pricking the edges of her eyes as she choked out, “Goodnight.”

Without giving Amélie a chance to react, she leapt off the Tower, blinking multiple times to soften the landing as she disappeared into the cold night.

 

* * *

 

 

“Lena, I believe Angela specified _healthy_ food,” Amélie chuckled as the tiny British teen tossed yet another packet of sweets into their trolley.

For the past few weeks, everyone at Watchpoint: California had been surviving on cup noodles and fizzy drinks, too swamped by work to bother with grocery shopping, cooking or even ordering takeout. Finally, Angela had snapped – there was no way she would allow her team to put another mouthful of that garbage into their bodies, and if they didn’t get some healthy food soon…

Angela didn’t need to finish that sentence before Lena and Amélie were sent out the door; everyone was absolutely terrified of the good Doctor’s bad side, and Commander Morrison was no exception. It was rumored she could make grown men cry and fully-developed battle Omnics flee in terror with just one look.

“But I want it,” Lena pouted, clutching a jumbo-size pack of gummy bears to her chest.

Shaking her head, Amélie said, “I don’t think you need any more sugar in you, _cherie_.”

Lena bit her lip, pulling out her trump card – the largest, wettest puppy dog eyes the world would ever know. She’d hardly been denied anything using them, since most people found them nearly impossible to resist. Amélie, too, had fallen hook, line and sinker for them time and time again, and Lena let out a victorious whoop as the other woman gave up.

“If Angela gets upset, I’m throwing you under the bus,” she warned, but Lena was already skipping further down the snack aisle with that cheek-splitting grin of hers.

“I’ll be fine, love,” she said, tossing a few bags of crisps into the trolley, “Doctor Ziegler likes me.”

“Everyone likes you,” Amélie muttered, half to herself, gently smacking the back of Lena’s head when she responded with a cheery _aww, thanks, love!_

A few blocks of chocolate later, Amélie finally managed to pull her out of the snack section to the fresh produce. As Amélie wandered through the aisles, Lena lingered in a corner trying, and failing, to balance a couple of apples on her nose.

“It’s not going to work, _cherie_ ,” Amélie said as the apples tumbled off Lena’s face yet again, “You can’t stay still for long enough.”

Lena merely smiled in response, her insides growing warm and fuzzy as Amélie smiled back. She loved how happy she could make Amélie, how the other woman remained perpetually lit up when they were together, even more so than when she was with Gérard. It gave her a guilty sort of satisfaction, one that she was sure she couldn’t hide well.

Still, it was blissful, going around the grocery store together like a domestic couple, and Lena found herself wishing yet again that they had met before Gérard, maybe even before Overwatch, so that they could be like the other civilians doing their shopping on a normal Saturday night.

But if they were, would they still be like this? Lena wasn’t sure – she’d changed an awful lot during flight school, and after the Slipstream incident (the pills she constantly flushed down the toilet were a testament of that), and she was sure Amélie had similar experiences. She wouldn’t want to live in a world where she didn’t love Amélie, no matter how agonizing and one-sided the affair was.

Even the bus ride back to the Watchpoint was light and warm, filled with casual banter and a little grappling as Lena tried to carry all the bags and Amélie struggled to get at least half of them off her. There would probably be weird rumors about them again, and no matter how nice and understanding Gérard pretended to be about them, Lena knew that he was aware of something.

Exactly what that _something_ was, she couldn’t say for sure.

“Thanks for tonight, _cherie_ ,” Amélie whispered as they climbed up the steps into the Watchpoint, her voice darker than Lena had ever heard it before. “I really needed it.”

“Y-you’re welcome, love,” she stuttered, stunned – had she gotten into a fight with Gérard? That was the only other time Amélie had sounded gloomy before, and it hadn’t been as bad as this.

Amélie smiled, looping an arm around her as best as she could with a half-dozen shopping bags in hand. “You’re too good for me.”

Lena gulped, the words she wanted to say bubbling dangerously close to the surface of her mind. If Amélie weren’t married, if her heart wasn’t already taken, it would be almost perfect for a confession, the two of them alone in the dimly lit pantry after a good night out.

Dropping the bags on the counter like they were on fire, she squeaked, “I’m pretty tired, so… goodnight!”

 

* * *

 

Missions to Egypt were probably the most hated of all Overwatch’s assignments, because not only was it hot as hell in the day and cold as ice at night, the agents often had to camp out in the desert with less supplies than they needed.

Tonight was no exception, and as the desert’s temperatures began to plummet, the eight-man team gathered around the three sleeping bags laid around a tiny fire.

“Jefferson and I will take the first watch,” Commander Morrison said, “The rest of you, get some sleep.”

As everyone slipped obediently into the sleeping bags, two to one, Lena struggled to hide the heat rising in her cheeks as she realized – she was going to have to share one with Amélie. There was no way her tiny gay heart could take that, not when they had to be so close together their bodies would practically be meshed.

“I-I’ll sleep outside,” she stammered, trying to ignore everyone else’s raised eyebrows – she was pretty sure everyone but Amélie knew about her gigantic crush at this point.

“You’ll freeze to death, _cherie_ ,” Amélie said, reaching out for her, “Is the prospect of sleeping with me that unappealing?”

Lena squeaked, much to the amusement of everyone else, grateful to the darkness for hiding what must be a vivid, scarlet blush. It wasn’t unappealing at all, no, Lena had a few too many wet dreams of Amélie to deny her attraction. But Amélie was _married_ , and there was absolutely no chance of them being any more than friends.

“Go on, Oxton,” the smile on Jefferson’s face was too smug for her liking, “Afraid she’ll bite?”

“I think she’s afraid she’ll like it,” laughed another soldier, causing Lena’s face to darken to a red that was almost purple.

“Shut up,” she grumbled, crawling into the bag beside Amélie with a huff.

The other woman chuckled, pulling the zipper back up and causing their bodies to press snugly against each other. Lena barely had time to process what was happening before she found her face buried in Amélie’s breasts.

_Holy shite_. She was not going to survive the night, was she? She was so painfully aware of every single one of Amélie’s curves, of the heartbeat pressed against her ear, of the words her brain was shrieking at her to say—

“Hey, Amélie?”

“Hmm?”

Panic filled every inch of Lena’s chest as she realized what she had almost done, “G-goodnight.”

“Goodnight, _ma cherie_.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lena was more than a little buzzed at this point, but then, everyone else was pretty much flat-out drunk. Gérard and squad had just taken out the Talon base in Kanagawa, and decided to take the team out for karaoke to celebrate.

One celebratory drink turned into two, then three, then half a dozen. The atmosphere was light and silly, the agents laughing and shoving at each other while choosing the most ridiculous songs – they’d sung _Barbie Girl_ at least six times in the first hour.

“Hey, Tracer, any song you got in mind?” Gérard shouted from the controls, his words slurring into one another, “You haven’t picked one yet.”

Lena shrugged, “Have they got anything Disney?”

“ _Love is an Open Door_?” the agent next to him, Sang-hyeok, suggested, “Or do you want _Let It Go_?”

Amélie, who was curled up by Lena’s side, sat up and said, “ _Love is an Open Door_. Shall we do a duet, _ma cherie_?”

Lena wasn’t sure if Amélie was speaking to her or to her husband, but when she felt those unfocused golden eyes on her, tried to swallow past the sudden lump in her throat as she nodded. Gérard stared at them with narrowed eyes, and for a split second, Lena was afraid that he would comment on their closeness, that the alcohol had loosened his tongue enough for him to finally question the nature of their relationship.

Fortunately, Gérard just mumbled something to himself in French before selecting the song, Amélie blissfully unaware of her husband’s gaze. Downing her shot of vodka to get rid of the lump of guilt in her stomach, Lena picked up the microphone, fixed her eyes on the screen and tried her best to stay on key.

The rest of the night passed in a hazy, alcohol-induced blur, and at some point, Lena found herself straddling Amélie, singing some extremely provocative song as the other agents hooted and cheered. She hadn’t noticed the look on Gérard’s face, or if he was looking at all, caught up in the darkened amber of Amélie’s eyes.

Amélie ran her hands slowly along Lena’s sides, moving up to cup her cheek and pull her close, so close that Lena could feel her breath brushing against her lips. For a paralyzing long moment, they stared at each other, their lips but inches apart, Lena’s mind screaming at her to _just kiss her already!_

“Hey, our timeslot’s up,” Gérard’s voice shattered the magic, and Lena flinched back so violently she might as well have been shot. “We should get going.”

Nodding as quickly as she could without aggravating her dizziness, Lena scrambled to her feet, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. She was drunk, yes, but she could always recall if she got into any trouble. She should be able to blink back to the Watchpoint in a few seconds, anyway.

“Slow down, Trace,” one of the agents called out, “We’ll get a cab for us all; why are you in such a hurry?”

“I had a meeting with Winston today, about the Accelerator,” she lied hurriedly, “Completely slipped my mind. Sorry.”

Amélie’s expression was dark and heavy as she said, “Goodnight, _cherie_.”

“G-goodnight.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Shouldn’t you be getting some rest, _cherie_?” Amélie asked as Lena yawned yet again, casting a glance over her shoulder at the wall clock.

_3:21AM_ , the neon numbers read, only three odd hours before she’d be flying off to the main Omnic front in South Africa to offer assistance. She would be away for two whole weeks, mostly alone in the cockpit of an AH-97 attack helicopter dropping bombs on Omnics and delivering ammunition, medicine and other important supplies.

It was an extremely dangerous mission, the twelve pilots had been warned, and there was a 50% chance they wouldn’t be coming home. It didn’t stop them from going, of course, many of them had flown under worse odds and returned, but just in case, Lena wanted to spend every moment she could with Amélie.

“I’ll catch a nap on the ride there,” Lena said, “It’ll take us fourteen hours to arrive anyway.”

Amélie chuckled, “Will you miss me that much, _cherie_?”

“I don’t know what you mean, love,” she mumbled, struggling to contain her blush as she searched through the database of old lesbian movies from the twentieth century. “What do you want to watch next?”

“I picked the last one, so it’s your turn.”

“Alright, then,” she scrolled through their options, “ _Imagine Me and You_ it is.”

She hopped back onto the couch, snuggling into Amélie’s side as the other woman draped an arm over her shoulder, pulling her close. The movie was quite fluffy, but it hit a little too close to home that the love story was between a married woman and an out-and-proud lesbian.

Would Gérard be as understanding as Hector was in the movie, Lena found herself wondering, if Amélie loved her like Rachel loved Lucy? Would he acknowledge that he needed to move, because there was an unstoppable force in his wife’s heart, and the right thing to do was to let her go?

There was no point thinking of any of this, Amélie didn’t love her. She was a doomed Lucy – who, ironically, was played by an actress named Lena. Her story wasn’t going to end happily with the love of her life standing on top of a car along a back road to the airport, yelling “ _You’re a wanker, Number 9!_ ”

Still, she couldn’t help but wishing, hoping, imagining a life with Amélie, a love with Amélie, where Gérard was nice and understanding and ready to move forward with life instead of getting bitter, possessive or controlling. It would be nice, wouldn’t it, to be able to love Amélie openly, instead of hiding it in her heart like it was something undesirable?

“Hey, love?” Lena called hesitantly – was it time to finally spill her guts, just in case she didn’t come back? “Am?”

There was no response, and she craned her neck to see Amélie leaning back against the couch, her eyes closed, a small smile on her face as she slept. There was no point waking her up, not when it was nearly 4:30 in the morning and they both had work the next day. Life had given her the answer – it wasn’t the right time to tell.

Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes as she ran her fingers through Amélie’s hair, her voice painfully small as she whispered, “Goodnight, love.”

As Lena drifted off, she hoped with all her heart that it wouldn’t be _goodbye_.

 


	3. Because love would mean some falling

“Promise me you’ll be alright, love?” Lena asked for what must have been the twentieth time that hour, worry dripping from her voice.

“Of course, _cherie_ ,” Amélie was patient and reassuring, all-too-aware of the fear and concern that were consuming Lena. She had mostly been on the receiving end, after all, waving goodbye to both Gérard and Lena as they went off on dangerous missions, sitting up all night by their hospital beds as they came back bruised and battered. “I promise, I’ll be right back to finish that _Harry Potter_ marathon with you.”

Lena was the one who caused her the most stress, flying the world’s most dangerous skies in tiny, fragile fighter craft that packed a lot of punch but could hardly take a hit. She’d already defied the average life expectancy of a wartime fighter pilot – she’d doubled it – and everyone knew that every single flight she made could be her last.

“You have to sleep early, you need to be alert tomorrow,” it was as if the girl hadn’t heard a word she’d said, not that Amélie was surprised. Worry and Lena didn’t go well together, after all. “Promise me you’ll be alert?”

She chuckled, “Lena, _cherie_ , I’m a sniper. When am I not alert?”

Lena shrugged, looking down at her hands, the right one still wrapped up in the bandages made necessary by a particularly violent mission in Tokyo. The anti-Omnic riots were growing worse, causing civil unrest, and the services Omnics that had once peacefully lived and served in cities across the world were becoming targets of merciless attacks.

One of the worst-hit places, currently, was Germany, and Amélie would be flying over there for a week with her team to try and defuse the situation. The ailing Crusaders were already struggling to take down the terrifying hordes of E54 attack Omnics at their doorstep; they couldn’t afford to keep the peace between angry humans and helpless service Omnics.

“You have to keep an ear out for the Omnics’ advance,” Lena said, gently reaching out for Amélie’s hand. “They’re sneakier bastards than usual in Germany.”

“I’ll try my best,” she said, drawing close to rest her chin on the crown of Lena’s head. She used to think it would be dangerous to do such a thing, that Lena’s naturally spiky hair would have her eye out, but it turned out that her hair was much softer than it looked.

“You’d better,” Lena huffed, leaning back to press her body against Amélie’s. “If you die, I’ll dig you back up and kill you again. Doctor Ziegler isn’t going to be there with her second chances.”

Amélie smiled, tilting her head to look Lena in the eyes, “That’s what I always tell you, _cherie_ , but what do you always say?”

Lena pouted, puffing up her cheeks adorably. “That’s different, love, I can literally rewind time to erase life-threatening injuries. You can’t.”

Amélie laughed, she didn’t have a retort for that. It was true that the younger woman found taking bullets less dangerous than anyone else, because she didn’t exactly have to obey linear time. She skipped around, picked and chose advantageous moments, and when the situation seemed bad, could bail back a few seconds and save her arse.

“I’m just… really worried about you, love,” Lena mumbled, more to herself than to anyone else.

Amélie was just a regular human being, well, a beautiful, exceptional sniper of a human being, but still as weak to a bullet as any other. So what if she could hit a target sixty yards off with her eyes closed? Those battle Omnics could spray 200 bullets a second and when they arrived in large numbers, turned the air to metal. How could she fight that?

“Be safe for me,” she pleaded under her breath, running her fingers over the backs of Amélie’s hands. “ _Please_.”

 

* * *

 

 

They were late. Amélie’s patrol should have returned from Germany sixteen hours ago, and if Lena had to wait another minute, she would probably explode. She had been pacing the landing deck from the moment they were expected back, ready with a smile on her face and a joke on her tongue, but the hours had worn away her cheerful exterior.

Now, she just looked _broken_.

A late mission was a surprisingly regular occurrence, especially to volatile fronts like Eichenwalde, but it didn’t make her feel any better. Her mind kept jumping to the worst scenarios – what if the blasted Omnics had indeed staged an attack, and Amélie was trapped in Eichenwalde slowly running out of supplies? What if she had been injured, or worse, killed? What if the anti-Omnic rebels had kidnapped her, what if they wanted to ransom her for Overwatch’s cooperation, and the organization refused to inform anyone about the hostage situation because they liked hiding “sensitive information”?

What if she could never see Amélie again, never hear her laugh again? What if Amélie was gone forever, what if the next thing Lena would do for her was lower her coffin into her grave?

And no, she definitely was not worried about only Amélie, no sir. She was just a friend, a married friend at that. No, Lena was also worried for the other members of the team, Ana, and Jia-yi, and Elizabeth… or was it Daisy? And the guys, of course, David and Sang-yoon and… Tim? At least she thought it was Tim, it could easily be Tyler or Tyrone or something…

Well, she couldn’t exactly remember all their names, but that wasn’t the point. She was Lena Oxton, Overwatch’s poster girl, the friendliest and most energetic Brit on the planet. Everyone on base knew her name, her face, her voice, and everyone loved to stop for a bit of a natter if they passed her in the hallway or saw her in the break room. She could turn the darkest of days painfully bright and sunny, they said, that’s why they liked her so much.

She was Lena Oxton, she was everyone’s friend, and she definitely was worried for them too. Not just Amélie, no, she didn’t feel any special kind of worry for her at all. Just normal, friendly, platonic feelings, stuff that wouldn’t make Gérard mad or Amélie uncomfortable.

Amélie was the best friend she ever had, so it was natural for her to be like a cat on hot bricks when she was late. Turn it the other way round and Amélie would be the same way, pacing nervously on the landing strip and staring up at the sky, straining to hear the telltale growl of engines as the pilots returned. It was a friend thing, nothing romantic at all.

Ah, who was she kidding?

Lena knew she loved Amélie, her feelings had lasted too long for her to brush them off as a silly crush, and they were too intense for her to pretend were platonic. Not that it mattered, whatever she called it, because they were just friends and Amélie was married and if – _when_ – she came back, it would be her husband’s arms she would return to, not Lena’s.

But that was alright, really, as long as she came back. Lena didn’t care if she had to watch Amélie and Gérard be cute and sickly sweet for the rest of her life, as long as she could see Amélie again. She had to be fine, she just had to be, because there were two people that would be heartbroken if she wasn’t, two people who wouldn’t know what to do, who to be, how to live…

She had to be fine because she was still so young, and there was so much more to life than what she had already lived. She had to be fine because it was a crime for the world to lose a woman like her, beautiful and kind and funny. She had to be fine because…

Because she promised.

Lena groaned, striding up to the hangar wall and slamming her forehead against it. The metal rang dully, and a low, amused voice sounded behind her, nearly making her jump out of her skin.

“Tryin’ to give yourself a concussion, Lena?” the lazy Southern drawl told her who it was even before she turned around – Jesse, one of the friendlier Blackwatch agents.

“In case you haven’t noticed, love, I’m not good with waiting,” she said, trying to keep her voice upbeat. “I’ve got three _Harry Potter_ movies on hold.”

Jesse shook his head, “You’ve got eyebags darker than the sky in London, kid. You ain’t foolin’ no one.”

“So I’m worried for my teammates, sue me,” she huffed defensively, resuming her ragged pacing. Inside, her heart was pounding rapidly against her ribcage, wondering if Jesse had somehow figured out her feelings and, if he did, how she could buy his silence.

“Honey, you’re not just worryin’. You’ve been awake a good forty-eight hours,” he said, taking a long drag of his cigarette before continuing, “Your heart’s away with someone on that mission, I’ll bet a year’s worth of smokes on that.”

Lena chose to ignore him, focusing on the rhythmic patter of her feet against the steel floorboards. She didn’t have the energy to fight him, to deny it with burning cheeks, she hadn’t slept in more than two days and her brain was dying but she was too worried to even close her eyes for more than five seconds.

“Y’know, might be better if you just tell him,” Jesse suggested, “What’s the worst that could happen?”

 _You don’t want to know_ ; she thought bitterly, _you really don’t._

 

* * *

 

 

The atmosphere in the helicarrier was somber as they rapidly approached the Watchpoint. Though they had succeeded in taking out the Talon base, they had lost two agents and everyone on the patrol was injured, no exceptions. Even Lena, who had recalled to rid herself of at least two dozen bullet wounds, was bleeding, and she was pretty sure she’d busted her ankle.

They’d been much more prepared for the ambush than Overwatch had expected, and it was a miracle that they’d only lost two. If Lena hadn’t been scouting ahead, recalling repeatedly to save her skin every time she nearly died to a trap or an enemy contingent, they would’ve lost at least another half-dozen soldiers by the end of the day.

When the aircraft landed, Angela immediately rushed in to greet it, wheeling out the most severely injured agents while a few others helped her haul out the body bags. Behind her, clustered in the waiting area, were the friends and families of all the agents that had gone on the mission, clutching teary-eyed at each other as they desperately scanned the faces of every wounded, broken person that limped off the plane. None of them wanted to visit Overwatch’s morgue with heavy hearts to identify the bodies of their loved ones, but they knew that some of them had to.

Lena chose to hang back as Gérard limped off, not wanting to watch the woman she loved hug him, fawn over him and shed tears of relief as she kissed him. She’d seen enough of that to have a permanent, Gérard-shaped brand of jealousy seared into her brain, and she was too tired and emotional to endure that kind of torture today.

To her surprise, however, Amélie didn’t rush to greet him, those beautiful golden eyes desperately searching the emptying aircraft and the face of every single agent that disembarked. Gérard looked both hurt and confused when she didn’t even spare him a second glance, coming to a stumbling halt before he even got close to her.

Slowly, nervously, Lena stumbled her way out, her heart fluttering dangerously as the other woman’s eyes lit up. Had Amélie been waiting… for _her_ …?

“Lena!” the relieved hug nearly bowled her over, and she smiled weakly as she wrapped her arms around her friend’s waist. “Thank goodness…”

Amélie was crying, her eyes already swollen from it, and Lena rubbed her back consolingly as she whispered, “I’m alright, love. I’m alright. Sorry for making you wait.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Lena noticed the knowing, sad look that Gérard was giving her, and she tried to ignore it as she continued whispering sweet consolations into Amélie’s ear. She didn’t need to think about what that look meant, not right now, not when she was tired and hurt and confused and filled with too many fluttery, guilty emotions to count.

For too long, she held the woman she loved but couldn’t have as she wept, trying and failing to kill the fledgling embers of hope in her chest. It didn’t mean anything that Amélie sought her out before Gérard, that she had pretty much ignored her husband in favor of her. It didn’t mean anything at all, it couldn’t, she loved him and he loved her and Lena couldn’t come between that.

It couldn’t mean anything, because it would tear them both apart if it did.

An hour or so later, as they sat in the medical bay patiently awaiting Doctor Ziegler to give them a once-over, Gérard came up and sat beside her, unable to meet her eyes. For an impossibly long moment, they sat in awkward, heavy silence, unsure what to say.

“I… I’ve seen what goes on between you and my wife,” he finally broke it, and before Lena could erupt with panicked apologies and heartfelt reassurances, he continued, “I have never seen Amélie as happy as she is with you. Not even on our wedding day.”

“It doesn’t really mean anything, love,” she tried to deflect, “She’s your wife, I won’t do anything. Yeah, I like her, but I’ll never touch her like that, I promise.”

He shook his head, a strained laugh escaping him, “That’s not what I’m here to say, Lena. I’m not a foolish man, not entirely. She loves you.”

“She-”

Cutting her off, he said, “She really, really loves you, Lena, more than anything. With me… we are close friends, that is all. She realized that she’s married her best friend, and she’s lost.”

“I…” Lena couldn’t believe her ears, “I’m sorry, Gérard.”

“Don’t be. You can make her happy in the ways I cannot, so please…”

“I can’t.”

“Lena, please…!”

She stood up suddenly, ignoring the pain that shot through her left ankle in protest. “I _can’t_ , Gérard. I… I’m not human.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, she hobbled out of the medical bay, injuries be damned. Doctor Ziegler would surely give her hell in the morning, but Lena would do anything to get away from Gérard’s haunted eyes, even face the good Doctor’s wrath.

She wasn’t human, she couldn’t give Amélie the stability and love she deserved. She was living on borrowed time – quite literally – and that uncertainty, that volatility, was not what she wanted Amélie to have to live with.

Gérard could give her a family. Gérard could give her a home – he already had. Gérard could give her stability, once he retired from Overwatch. Lena couldn’t, because she could never retire, because they didn’t even know if she aged normally or would ever die of old age, because the only way her Accelerator could be maintained was if she remained with access to Overwatch’s laboratories.

Amélie deserved better than an experiment, than an anomaly in quantum physics. She deserved a happy forever in a quaint little French town, or maybe back in Annecy, maybe teaching ballet to little girls and maybe even with kids of her own.

Lena couldn’t give her any of that.

 

* * *

 

 

Her heart was pounding so rapidly she could feel it in her throat, a lump of solid terror that refused to dissolve. Lena had been flying a lightweight, two-man spycraft deep behind Omnic lines in an attempt to disrupt their ammunition supply deliveries, low enough to the ground for Amélie to snipe out the sides, but a few lucky shots from three dozen E54s took them straight out of the sky.

When they awoke, they found themselves bound in steel rope in some damp holding cell that smelled strongly of oil, and all they could do was sit quietly and await what their captors had in store for them.

The Omnics had kidnapped Overwatch agents before, the more intelligent ones, and demanded supplies or territory in exchange for their lives. They’d even killed them before, gruesomely and publicly, turning their bodies into bullet-ridden bags of meat. Lena knew some of the victims personally; she’d shared a beer with at least half of them after a mission well done…

The sound of the door opening made them both snap to attention, Lena shifting forward to block Amélie with her body. Flesh was a weak shield should they decide to shoot them, but with her limited control of time, Lena could drag out a few precious seconds, hopefully enough to let Amélie escape.

Gérard would take care of her when she returned, even if she lost her heart with Lena. He loved her – his willingness to leave, to let her be with Lena, was proof of that, and if there was anyone in the world she could trust with mending Amélie’s broken heart, it was him. Amélie didn’t need to know that Lena loved her back; she didn’t need to know that Gérard knew her heart had gone elsewhere. She just needed to live, and to be happy.

A service Omnic walked into the room, spine erect and head held high, its metallic feet clanging shrilly against the floorboards. Behind it were two E54s, stained in blood and dust, their guns trained on the duo in case they tried anything funny.

“Greetings, agents of Overwatch,” the Omnic said in a voice that was ridiculously calm considering the situation. “I am here to speak with you of your fates.”

Amélie kept silent, pressing her shivering body against Lena’s back, and Lena knew she had to be brave for them both. She was the one who faced life-threatening situations on a near-daily basis, flying extremely dangerous missions and crash-landing in volatile conditions, while Amélie was used to hanging in the backlines with the other snipers.

“Are you implying that we have a choice?” her voice was steady, unwavering, it sounded a lot braver than she felt.

The Omnic nodded mechanically, “You see, agents, we require both a hostage and an… example, to show your organization that we mean what we say. And, as you know, we have two of you.”

It paused, possibly for dramatic effect, before continuing, “Hence, I will let you decide amongst yourselves who will be our hostage, and who will die immediately. Let it be clear that I will not tolerate screaming, crying and desperate betrayal – if you resort to that, I will pick my own victim.”

Lena’s heart seemed to stop for an impossibly long moment, fear and dread clawing their icy paths along her spine. Struggling to find her tongue, she stuttered, “Y-you won’t hurt the hostage, will you?”

“Of course not,” the Omnic sounded offended, “The point of having a hostage is keeping them well and alive, to ransom.”

“Do I have your word?”

“Yes, on my pride as an Omnic.”

That was enough for Lena, it was probably the best she could get out of them anyway. Lurching forward, she pressed her forehead to the nearest E54’s gun, her eyes blazing as they let out _beep_ s of alarm.

“Alright then, bloody well shoot me. Let’s get it over with.”

“L-Lena!”

She didn’t turn to look at Amélie’s face, to see the shock and hurt and love and fear that would definitely be shining there. She didn’t want any of it to crack her resolve.

For Amélie, she was willing to die.

Amused, the Omnic hummed, staring unflinchingly into Lena’s burning eyes as the E54 slowly pulled the trigger…


	4. And she's afraid of heights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the very long wait T.T  
> I took on a part time job that asked a lot of me, but in the end, I couldn't hold it down anyway. I will try to use this time to write as much as I can, before I have responsibilities again.

Lena had been looking forward to returning to HQ for months – her solo deployment to aid Helix Security had gone way over its initial five-month schedule thanks to waves of hackers attempting to reach the Anubis program, and communications had been completely cut for safety’s sake. Amélie was probably beside herself with worry, not that Lena could blame her. If they swapped places, she would be the same way – heck, she might have blinked her little arse all the way to Egypt to find her.

The days had been long, hot and tiring, and the nights sometimes dropped to an almost London-esque chill. For the first few days, she had been sniffling and homesick, making as many under-the-radar calls as she could to Amélie, until the Helix Security officers got annoyed with her and threatened to cut the network.

Still, the mission had been pretty successful, and they managed to seal up the Temple of Anubis to make it even harder to get to the god program than before. Hopefully, this meant that Lena could have a nice long break back at the Watchpoint, filled with Disney movies, hot chocolate and Amélie’s comforting warmth pressed against her side…

However, when the darkened windows of HQ came into sight, Lena felt a horrible, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The Main Watchpoint was never dark, it never slept, no matter what time of the night it was, always blazing with activity as agents scurried from one end of the building to the other. Every second of every day someone would be at work, maintaining the communications between all the Watchpoints across the world, supervising research and agent deployments and recruitment and training drives. They were a perfect addition to the city that never slept, yet tonight…

Everything was blanketed in darkness.

The technicians that received her in the darkened landing bay were all dressed in stiff, black suits with white gloves, and they refused to say a single word to her despite her barrage of questions. Strangest of all, Amélie was not there waiting, though Lena had sent a wire ahead to notify Overwatch of her return.

“What’s going on here, loves?” she asked, trying to keep her tone chipper, “The welcome party is awfully blue today. And where’s Am?”

Radio silence, as if they had not heard her voice at all. Did they lose an entire platoon, or one of the higher-ranking officers? Even then the whole place shouldn’t be thrown so badly out of whack, they were the center of Overwatch! They couldn’t afford to shut down because somebody died. So why was everyone so out of it?

Or was it… were they only like this because they knew she was coming home today, and someone important to her was being buried? Overwatch made these kinds of things awfully obvious… You could tell if you lost a friend or a family member from a mile away.

Was Amélie… was that why they wouldn’t speak to her? Was the casualty Amélie? But… no, it couldn’t be, they wouldn’t turn off the lights for an ordinary sniper. Maybe they’d tiptoe around her friends for her but… halflight was reserved only for big losses.

It could have been Gérard; he was high-ranking enough to warrant such a response. That could be why she wasn’t waiting at the landing bay, she was by the side of her best friend, her husband, as they got ready to put him in the ground…

“Lena,” she whirled at the sound of her name, relief spreading through her at the sight of a familiar face.

“Doctor Ziegler!” Hopefully, the doctor would tell her what in the world was going on. Struggling to keep the anxiety from her voice, she asked, “Are we facing a power outage?”

Angela did not smile, not even the slightest twitch of her lips; it made the knot in the base of Lena’s throat tighten. The doctor was the sweetest, kindest person alive, who smiled or laughed at everyone’s jokes even if they weren’t funny; why else did nearly everyone who met her have a crush on her? It had become a ritual of sorts for the new recruits: by the time you got over your gigantic crush on Doctor Ziegler, it meant you were a fully-integrated member of Overwatch.

There was no doubting it, she had landed on the day of a funeral, and she really was not looking forward to finding out whose it was.

“Welcome back,” Angela said thinly, her voice like a sheet of ice slowly cracking beneath a child’s foot. “You’re just in time for the funeral.”

Lena swallowed thickly, her tone artificially light, “Well, who is it, love? Don’t keep me in the lurch.”

_Silence._

For an incredibly long moment, Angela stood frozen, unable or unwilling to say a word. Her breaths were unsteady, uneven, as if she were on the verge of tears, and Lena dreaded the words that would come out of her mouth.

Finally, she choked, a sob tearing free from her throat, “ _I’m so sorry, Lena._ ”

The words made the ground fall out from beneath her feet, her stomach free-falling into the abyss they had created. It couldn’t… it couldn’t be true, there was no way it was her. Maybe it was another of Lena’s close friends on the base, or her favorite superior officer, someone else, _anyone but her…_

“No.”

“ _I’m so sorry…_ ”

“ _No._ ”

Lena felt her knees buckle beneath her, yet the pain of striking the metal butt-first barely registered in her foggy mind. There was no way, Amélie couldn’t be dead, there was no way… She was supposed to be safe, there were not even any missions scheduled for her entire squad while Lena was away. What happened, how could this happen?

“She was taken by Talon,” Angela choked out, the words floating through Lena’s aching skull as if it were all a dream, the long story that ensued swirling senselessly inside her hollow head.

No, there was no way that this was true, Amélie would never kill Gérard, she loved him! Maybe… maybe not as a husband anymore, but as a best friend, a childhood companion, there was no way… Talon did something to her, that was the monster that killed him, Amélie had to be alive, she just… She just was wounded and beaten into a corner, but they could bring her back again! Why was Angela giving up, why…?

_Jack issued a shoot-to-kill order._

Those words put an abrupt stop to the storm raging inside her, all the light and color draining from her eyes as she raised her head, pinning Angela with an empty, icy glare. She was going to get Amélie back, her eyes swore, and nothing in the world would stop her. No matter how many years it took to track her down, to wake her up from inside that monster Angela said she had become, Lena would do it.

And Jack could take his shoot-to-kill order and stuff it up his arsehole.

Amélie wasn’t dead, she was just sleeping deep inside, having retreated from whatever horrors Talon had done to her. Amélie wasn’t dead, her body was still breathing, her heart was still beating. But…

But when she came back, and realized the things she had done…

She would be, wouldn’t she?

 

* * *

 

 

The sound of the crowd around her melted away as Lena identified the blur flying across the rooftops of King’s Row: it was the woman she had been looking for, the woman she had never forgotten, not once in all those years, despite the fact that she had a girlfriend, a new life, and barely any ties left to Overwatch. It was Amélie Lacroix.

Angela had been right, the woman before her barely resembled the woman she knew and loved. She was bloody blue, for one, and well… Amélie had never been that… _confident_ with her body, to wear practically nothing in the chilly night air.

Still, it was undeniably her, undeniably Amélie Lacroix, sleeping somewhere deep inside the assassin on the roof. It was Lena’s chance to finally talk to her, to bring her back and prove those old geezers in Overwatch High Command wrong. The monster she had been reconditioned into was not permanent, there was definitely a way to return her to the way she was before. She was still in there, there was no other truth that could be accepted.

The Amélie she watched Disney movies with, the Amélie who got confused by the accents in Harry Potter, the Amélie who loved cats and was deathly afraid of spiders, the Amélie who loved warm showers and the smell of lavender, the Amélie who loved chocolate and didn’t like sweets, the Amélie who loved Lena, was still in there somewhere.

And she was going to bring her back.

Darting through the crowd, Lena made her way toward the rooftops, praying to every god she could think of that she would make it in time. She couldn’t let her get away, not now, not when she finally had the chance to see her again, but this new Amélie was _fast_. Did she pick up gymnastics in those years they had been apart?

Joy and excitement fizzled through Lena’s veins as the other woman jumped off the building, settling into that signature sniping pose of Amélie’s, hanging upside down like a spider. It was all Lena’s fault that she had to learn to shoot that way; she flew a little too adventurously for anyone to even hope that they’d be upright for half the flight.

If she still remembered that, even if it was only a muscle memory, it meant that Amélie’s brain hadn’t been completely wiped after all. And that meant there was a chance… a chance to bring it all back to the way it was before.

With a cheerful whoop, Lena blinked over the edge of the building, pistols blazing. That familiar look of faint annoyance tore at her heartstrings – all the emotions she had buried were waking with a vengeance, filling her chest with a mixture of pain and happiness. Even after all those years, after all those assassinations and reconditionings, there were still traces left of her Amélie in the way she walked, the way she frowned, the way she shot…

Lena had to bring her back, there was no other option. She would make her remember all the things that Talon wrenched away from her, she would make her a good guy again, and then they could go to Gérard’s grave and apologize to him together.

There was no room for failure.

“Trying to crash another party, love?”

_Please, Am, remember…!_


End file.
